


you were my sunshine

by maraudersourwolf



Series: thiam half birthday 2k18 [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Tragedy, Emotional Hurt, Heartbreaking, Heavy Angst, M/M, Tearjerker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 07:24:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14972039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maraudersourwolf/pseuds/maraudersourwolf
Summary: Time stops.This time there’s no static noise or a menacing walk down the street following him. There’s no long hair and a girl he once shared his blood with standing in front of him.There’s no quirurgic instrument nor hand ripping his heart out of the cave of ribs and darkness harboured over the years.But he still feels like it’s being yanked out of him in a painful tight grip.





	you were my sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> **THIAM WEEK | DAY 3: LYRICS**
> 
>  
> 
> Okay so, I don't know where this comes from.  
> I had a bad day, I had the idea and I was letting it die.  
> Then I decided to tell Sammy, to see if she would write it.  
> Guess it backfired.
> 
>  
> 
> The thing is  
>  **I blame Sammy for this**
> 
>  
> 
> I also want to thank **Manon** for letting me use her 'sunshine' freely.  
>  I might have taken things a bit further than expected.  
> I might be sorry about it.
> 
>  
> 
> I snip snipped the song to fit the way I learned it as a kid.  
> I know there's more lyrics into it, but I'm not familiar with them so.  
> Shorter version, I guess.
> 
>  
> 
> Barely beta’d.  
> A bit messy.  
> Please, get the tissues.  
> Enjoy.

 

 

Time stops.

This time there’s no static noise or a menacing walk down the street following him. There’s no long hair and a girl he once shared his blood with standing in front of him.

There’s no quirurgic instrument nor hand ripping his heart out of the cave of ribs and darkness harboured over the years.

But he still feels like it’s being yanked out of him in a painful tight grip.

And time keeps stuck.

Theo watches, breath caught in his throat and a distinctive burn that he hadn’t felt in year at the back of his eyes.

Blood gurgles from Liam’s mouth in a fountain of words that are impossible to be listened to and a final fear that shouldn’t be so real under a teenager skin. And that’s all Theo can do before falling on his knees at Liam’s side over the asphalt and quickly pressing his hand on the side of the beta’s neck, drawing away the pain. Like he so many times did when the boy hitted his head against the kitchen counter every morning like a clock or against the doorframe of the truck like every monday and friday after lacrosse and they wanted nothing but to go home.

Like he does now, when there’s a hole in the middle of the beta’s chest, barely missing the heart, where there’s supposed to be veins and muscle that pump dreams and hopes of a life that shouldn’t be ending now.

Because they’re still young and they should be reckless. Liam still needs to learn how to steal a goddamn apple or to run away from police, to defy authority and miss classes just to lazy around more often. To loosen up more and forget to shape his world into a perfect picture for a while.

But instead he’s there, on the hard cold ground, with pain contorting his features and clouding those beautiful baby blue eyes.

So far for a flourishing future.

There’s a puddle of red that’s gaining space under his knees that feels sticky and wrong in all the ways, even if he tries to summon back those years were he barely cared about something like that. When water was enough to cleanse his hands but not his soul and he was fine with that.

Because he’s not fine with this.

And he knows his ears should be ringing by the panic. He knows their surroundings should be spinning and his heartbeat should be thrumming way too hard on his throat. He knows he should be calling for a pack that isn’t his or for someone, anyone, that knows how to give life instead of take it.

Instead, there’s Tara’s voice at the back of his mind. The slightly lisp on the shrill voice of a girl who’s melodically singing and bringing back a memory he thought lost under layers of nightmares and emotional scars.

Her favorite song when she was ten, rosy cheeks and long auburn hair, running around the woods and bending down to smell the flower because they’re only pretty when they’re alive. Carding little fingers in between his hair because he was young and fearful and life itself was a threat for someone who wasn’t supposed to be born to begin with. Because he was a frail flower in the middle of the woods too.

   

> _The other night dear, as I lay sleeping_
> 
> _I dreamed I held you in my arms_

 

A sob blooms from the core of his being and rattles every bone and muscle on its way out his body at the faint memory of the childish and offkey voice of his sister, while one of Liam’s hands scramble around and takes purchase on his forearm. Blunt nails dig into his skin, half crescent purple moons on their wake and the distinct print of the beta’s hand smudged with inking blood, debris and fear.

Moving him around isn’t the best decision he could take, alarms flaring all around in his head, but Liam’s hand tries to climb over his arm with more urgency and Theo relents quickly. He’s in no place to forbid Liam of the needed touch. He’s in no place to forbid himself of the last moments of closeness they can share.

Cradling him close to his chest, Theo forgets how being collected works. There’s no trace of the chimera’s stoic face, the one that he got so used to slip on as a mask on its own that wasn’t made out of leather but still held dread. Now it’s his lower lip trembling, trying to mutter something that he doesn’t exactly now, and tears tracking down his face.

The chimera’s arms hug tightly Liam’s middle, trying to anchor himself against the trembling body that matches his own, pushing the boy up. Some of his tears fall over Liam’s red splattered face, making the boy brokenly whine. Or maybe is the tight grip that must be taking most of his breath away.

Theo doesn’t know because the only thing he can hear is Tara’s voice, innocently singing, and he wants it to stop.

    

> _But when I awoke, dear, I was mistaken_
> 
> _So I hung my head and I cried_

 

The new whine comes choked and it’s no long before Theo identifies the tremors of the shorter body as sobs on their own. The smell of salt almost drowns the copper for a second and Theo doesn’t want to look because this can’t be happening.

Black veins creep crawling up his arm like death chanting in whispers and Theo wants to convince himself that this is just a nightmare. This is another of their unlucky encounters where the time ticks too fast and the cloud seems too big, but at the end the good win and they all go back home a little bit more sore, a little bit more tired, but alive.

This is another nightmare.

Nothing but his conscience taking reign over his mind again, blurring the line between what’s real and what’s not. Drowning him in guilt and sorrow so thick, so deep, that there’s no way he could take a clean gulp of air.

There’s no way he would not feel like he’s the one dying.

But it doesn’t matter, because this is a nightmare.

It _has_ to be.

His self instructed brain into medicine and words that are too long to understand beyond scalpels and surgery tables tells him that Liam isn’t getting out of this like many times before. That there’s no magic cure nor werewolf healing that can overcome such a blood loss, such a huge gap to close.

That there’s no way the red that scattered all around them will go back inside, that the bone that’s visible will once more take cover and that the slowing thumping of the beta’s heart will once more go full strength, like a gallop of wild horses seeking nothing else but to live.

Something Liam isn’t able to have anymore.

Theo growls, in frustration and pain, pressing his forehead against the beta’s temple. The smell of tears and gore and the never ending fear that seems to grow restless, like a caged beast, that wants to take and consume and gnaw his bones.

He doesn’t want to think how it’s succeeding.

Or how, slowly, it’s pungent distinct scent is starting to fade.  
  
  


> _You are my sunshine, my only sunshine_
> 
> _You make me happy when skies are gray_

 

Tara sang that song so many times that it’s not exactly scary how perfectly his brain can remember every breath between words, every high pitch and every low one. Every time her voice broke and every time she screamed the words in a squeal of delight, before cupping his cheeks and pressing into them before kissing his nose.

It was her favorite.

The same way it was sunday mornings out in the backyard or late afternoons chasing fireflies or even the 10 minutes after the rain stopped, when she could run outside and jump into puddles.

Or the first snowfall of winter or the small purplish looking flowers blooming in spring or the bees flying around a warm glass of lemonade on summer.

Life itself was her favorite thing in the world.

And Theo doesn’t want to think how fitting it is that after he took everything from her, every hope and every dream and even her last breath, she's the voice he evokes when it’s Liam’s turn to lose the battle.

When it’s his turn to lose it all.

   

> _You'll never know dear, how much I love you_

 

At some point, Theo finds himself brokenly muttering the song, following a lead that isn’t guiding him to a brighter future. Tears keep falling, pooling on the bow of his lip and under his chin, and hiccups follow because he’s no longer the big bad chimera. No longer the killer of dreams and the murderer of so many, but once again that eight year old kid, lost in a too big world with a bright shining light slowly turning off right in front of his eyes.

His mind in a constant loop of things he didn’t say, of things he didn’t do. The kisses he didn’t steal, the gazes they didn’t share. The smiles that he wanted to cherish forever, now a distant memory. The hands holding together that now were just red and pain.

The _I love you_ s, the _please don’t leave me_ s, the _what am I going to do_ s that fall into deaf ears.

Liam breaths in a last time, shallow and painful, his chest rising with a last attempt of reaching for something greater than himself.

But the exhalation never comes.

And Theo can feel what’s left of his soul leave in its place.

   

> _Please don't take my sunshine away._

 

 

* * *

 

 

Theo gasps, bolting up into a sitting position in his bed. His chest rises frantically up and down, chasing the so needed air, and he pulls up a shaky hand to run up his hair, that’s matted over his forehead with sweat. The whole sheets are damp but he can’t find it in himself to peel them off his body and push them away. His body still shakes and his mind is still all over the place.

His face is damp too and he doesn’t need Stiles’ level of detective work to know that it’s not just sweat but also tears that have been clinging for dear life to his lashes just to run down his face as the only proof of the terrible nightmare he just had.

He’s just a sea of sorrow, drowning on himself.

One of his hands fall down onto the bed, dragging itself over the slightly less sticky sheets from the side he wasn’t sleeping in, as if petting something. Someone.

Or nothing at all.

The bed is cold.

And so is he.

   

> _In all my dreams, dear, you seem to leave me_
> 
> _When I awake my poor heart pains_
> 
> _So when you come back and make me happy_
> 
> _I'll forgive you dear, I'll take all the blame_

 

Theo sighs, looks around the dimly lighted room in sad shades of blue and lays back down into the bed. He blinks slowly at the side of the bed that’s empty and smells stale with dust and lack of use. Like everything in the room, that has been stuck like a time capsule.

A light layer of dust decorating every corner but the window he uses to break in and the side of the bed he reached by instinct so long ago trying to find something. Someone.

Or nothing at all.

When his breathing is even once more, Theo closes his eyes.

It’s almost impossible to remember the last time he would keep his eyelids closed and the overwhelming smell of spicy anger and something warm, sizzling, like cinnamon assaulted him into believing the room isn’t as empty as he is inside.

Maybe that’s for the best.

Maybe this time he’ll get to dream for once about having his sunshine back.

**Author's Note:**

> At this point I’m sure I don’t need to link the song for you all.  
> I'm pretty confident you guys know which song is it.  
> I’m linking a cover I love anyways.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kSKrRZtK704


End file.
